


Miles to Go Before I Sleep

by QueenTheatrics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, oh look another fix it fic, this is also borne of nonsense are any of us surprised, very requited love, we are all well aware ofwhich part is being fixed here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTheatrics/pseuds/QueenTheatrics
Summary: The woods are lovely, dark and deep but they have promises to keep.





	Miles to Go Before I Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> me n my pals couldn't take that ending without memeing it so here is what was borne of that pls enjoy.
> 
> title and summary from that robert frost poem y'all know the one

The forest breeze is soft on Bucky’s face. He brushes his hair out of his eyes—long, still, but shorter and neater than it once was—and turns his eyes to Steve. Steve smiles at him, and the skin around his eyes crinkles with crow’s feet that finally show his age. He’s been out of the ice now for eleven years, which puts his biological age somewhere near thirty-eight. It’s impossible to work out how old Bucky is—he and Steve had tried once, during one of Steve’s many long, long visits to Wakanda, where they would sit in the quiet shade of his tent and talk about nothing, learning new card games and having knife throwing competitions. They’d given up somewhere around 1975.   
Steve rubs his jaw with a big hand as Bruce prepares the machine. He’s clicking a lot of buttons and grumbling under his breath, and Sam is standing by him with his arms folded, pretending he knows what’s going on. It’s a clear ruse to give them some privacy as they prepare to part—it’ll be a short parting, but it’s a parting nonetheless. They hug, briefly, and Bucky claps Steve on the back.   
“Do me a favour, pal?” He says, right into Steve’s ear. He can feel the tension in Steve’s shoulders that lets him know he’s listening. “Find Peggy, yeah? Give her that dance you owe her.” He pulls back and forces himself to meet Steve’s eyes, which are blue and shiny and clear. “Give her a kiss from me.” He clears his throat and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket—Steve’s jacket, really, borrowed when his other one got covered in battlefield dust and blood. Steve’s brows knit together but he nods once, twice, and then puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.  
“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He says, and Bucky snorts, because the memory is eighty years in the past but for him, it’s hardly any time at all. Steve is bigger now, older and harrowed and there are lines on his face that weren’t there five years ago, and yet Bucky doesn’t even need to think before he answers with the line that Steve gave him.  
“How can I?” He starts, and the smile Steve gives him is beaming. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” There’s a pause while Bruce tells them some technical mumbo-jumbo, and then Bucky is watching Steve stand on the platform. “I’m gonna miss you, Steve.” He says. Steve gives him a nod, puts on his helmet, and then he’s gone.  
“Five seconds.” Bruce says, but Bucky turns away. He can’t face watching the quantum platform whir and open, only to see nothing come through the gate. Sam gives him a look, eyebrow quirked in a silent question, but Bucky doesn’t meet his eye. Bruce’s countdown hits two and then one and then zero and then there’s a silence, shocked and jarring.   
“Where is he?” He hears Sam growl.  
“I don’t know,” Bruce says, calmly, but there’s a note of panic coursing through his voice.   
“Get him back!” Sam says. His voice is louder now and Bucky recognises the sound of badly disguised fear. Then something makes Bucky turn around.  
“Sam,” He says, voice quiet, tone resigned but accepting. There’s a figure sitting on the bench overlooking the water. His back is to them but Bucky recognises him immediately. Bucky would recognise Steve anywhere, has recognised him across lifetimes and decades and the fog of Hydra’s pull. This time is no different. It’s Steve there, and he’s waiting for Bucky, like he’s been doing since they were just stupid kids kicking cans around the streets of Brooklyn.   
“Go,” Sam says, smiling a sort of smile that says he knows what’s about to happen. Bucky claps him on the shoulder and walks over. He resists the urge to run. When he reaches the bench he sits down, and a face, old and wrinkled and tired meets his gaze. Still, those blue eyes, the same blue eyes Bucky’s been chasing since the 1920s, stare back.   
“Hey, Buck.” Steve says, like nothing has changed. Bucky’s eyes search his face, at the deep lines that criss cross his skin like valleys.   
“So, you stayed for that dance?” Bucky says, and he sees a smirk twitch the corner of his friend’s lip.  
“Yeah, I did,” Steve says. “I made a promise to a great lady. I owed it to her to keep it.” He huffs out a little laugh under his breath, as though he’s remembering something funny from a long, long time ago. It must be long ago now, Bucky supposes. “And then I thought, ‘I can’t leave the love of my life,’ and so…” Steve trails off, and there’s a pause. Bucky looks down at Steve’s hands, still remarkably big and strong and smooth despite the lines on his face, and watches as his left hand turns over. No ring. Bucky frowns and looks up and there, sitting in front of him, with the same annoying smirk on his face, is Steve, looking young and hale and healthy and almost exactly the same as he had when he left. Bucky scrambles back and falls off the bench. He lands with a thump on his ass and Steve snorts unattractively.   
“What. The. Fuck?” Bucky grits out, as Steve offers him a hand. He takes it and stands and watches as Steve gives the thumbs up to Wanda, who is standing behind a tree and cackling. Steve takes a little black oval from behind his ear and shows it to Bucky. It’s SHIELD tech, used to alter the face of the wearer. Wanda had helped him get off the platform unseen. Bucky whacks him with the metal arm, and the clang it makes against Steve’s bicep is worth it.   
“I’m sorry, Buck, I couldn’t resist.” Steve says, grinning and rubbing his arm, where a big bruise is forming. It’ll be gone by nightfall. “You seemed so sure I was gonna stay behind, even though that would be ridiculous. That would have created a new timeline and c’mon, what kind of asshole would I be if I left my best guy behind.”  
Bucky muses over this. It does seem out of character for Steve, to just abandon his family and friends and take over the life Peggy had created for herself. He nods, and then watches as Steve moves forward, into his space, looking all big and strong like he always does lately, and like Bucky has been pointedly trying to ignore for just as long. “I told you, I couldn’t leave the love of my life.”  
Bucky swallows, though his throat is dry. Steve is looking at him, those blue eyes sincere and fond, and there’s an acrobat apparently turning somersaults in Bucky’s stomach all of a sudden. He reaches out, slowly, carefully, and snakes a hand around Steve’s waist, the other hand coming up to trace the solid mass of his chest, and then Steve apparently loses patience and kisses Bucky, hard, cupping his face in his hands. The kiss seems to last forever, and no time at all. All too soon, Steve is pulling back, licking his bottom lip, and Bucky clears his throat as his eyes follow the movement.  
“How long you been waiting to do that?” He says, and if he wasn’t so much in love, he’d be embarrassed by the hitch in his breath.   
“Bout ninety years, give or take.” Steve replies. Bucky actually laughs this time, long and loud and free, like he hasn’t done in a while—a few months for him, a few years for Steve. Steve’s hands are still on his face, his thumb stroking over Bucky’s jawline, and Bucky never, ever wants him to let go. He feels his fingers stop their movement and Bucky brings his hand up to cover Steve’s. “Buck—“ Steve starts, but is briefly distracted by Bucky turning his face and pressing a kiss into Steve’s palm. “I know you got a good thing going here with Sam.” He says. “The whole White Wolf thing?” He clarifies when Bucky looks confused. “But when I saw Peggy, she told me to live my life. I thought I’d give it a try. You wanna give it a go with me?” His eyes are hopeful but apprehensive, and Bucky can’t believe Steve thinks there’s a place he could go where Bucky wouldn’t follow.  
“Yes,” he says, without hesitation, and he kisses him again, with the weight of the last ninety years of pining behind it. When they pull back, Steve offers Bucky his hand, picks up the big package he’s got leaning against the bench, and they walk over to Sam and Bruce together. The two are deep in conversation, but they both know they’re just pretending they hadn’t been watching the whole exchange.  
“Dick move, Rogers.” Sam says, holding out a hand so Steve can take it, pulling him forwards into a hug. He slaps his back once and then steps back. “So what’s the plan now?”  
“Well…” Steve says, pretending to mull it over. “I’m over 100 years old now, give or take a few.” Sam snorts and rolls his eyes, and Steve presses on. “I think it’s time I retire.”  
“I get it,” Sam says. “Guess I’m just sad that I’ll have to live in a world without Captain America.”  
“Not necessarily.” Steve replies, and the smirk is back. He reaches down and zips open the bag. Inside, shining as the dappled sunlight hits it, is the shield, whole and shiny and new. They all take a moment to admire it, and then Steve is holding it out to Sam. “Try it on.” He says, and when Sam takes it, it slides into place on his arm like it’s coming home.  
“How’s it feel?” Steve says.   
“Like it’s someone else’s,” Sam says, but Steve shakes his head.  
“It’s not.” Steve’s voice is firm, and it seems to finally get through Sam’s head. He looks down at the shield, moves it around on his arm and then stands up straight. His shoulders are back, chin raised, and he presses his lips together, blinking rapidly.  
“Thank you,” Sam says. His voice is thick with unshed tears. Bucky’s hand, warm on Steve’s waist, tightens briefly in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and Steve presses a kiss to his temple. Bruce shuts down the machine for the last time and, with the setting sun warm on their backs, the four of them start the long walk back to base.


End file.
